


Marvin's Unfortunate Profession

by MelchiorGabor



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Fluff, M/M, i don't think there's anything else to tag, marvin is tired, save him, sex hotline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 10:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelchiorGabor/pseuds/MelchiorGabor
Summary: Marvin works as a sex hotline worker.That is all.





	Marvin's Unfortunate Profession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [candlewick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlewick/gifts).



> This was honestly the result of some joke between A and I that ended with me agreeing to write this. 
> 
> Enjoy.

First and foremost, Marvin Feldman hated his job. _Despised_ it. Discussing such with his colleagues often proved to be painstakingly vague, as the shame of his profession often washed over him to such a heavy degree that he almost always refused to discuss it.  
In all truthfulness, it was not as bad as Marvin made it out to be. Hell, it paid well, and within mere months of his employment, he had scaled his way to the top of the company. Respectively, however, nobody in his family knew exactly what he did; the extent in which he'd go to keep it confidential was essentially too far to even bother attempting to figure it out.

  
Thus, each night he'd drive about on his commute to work, wondering when and if he'd ever get a job that paid better and was suited to his interests. His interests, you may ask? Not this current job.

  
It was currently one in the morning, and Marvin respectfully wasn't pleased; working ten-to-three hours each night was draining, after all. He sat at his disheveled desk, trying not to fall asleep. His head rested in both of his hands as he let out a long, drawn-out sigh, just waiting for something to happen. His prayers were answered when the work phone in front of him rang. Unfortunately, however, he remembered something very adverse.  
He was a sex hotline worker.

  
He didn't do the actual dirty work, mind you; that'd be passed onto other people after Marvin did his part of the job. His part of the job in question was likely the most preferable, actually, as he was simply the person who put in the callers' credit card informations. Didn't seem _too_ difficult, right? Wrong.

  
This was perhaps the twelfth call that night. Marvin shook the mouse of his computer, making the monitor light up, and picked up the phone. "Hello, you've reached the Triple-X Sex hotline. For five minutes of call time, your balance will be twenty dollars. For ten minutes, your balance will be thirty-five. Any additional minute will be an extra two dollars."

  
"Ten minutes, please," said the caller, who Marvin could only imagine to be some gross man who lived alone and single. He was probably right.

  
"All right, please read out your credit card information. Your transaction will then be completed, and we will redirect your call from there," Marvin said, his orchestrated message spoken in a bored, exhausted tone.

  
As the caller read out the numbers on their credit card, Marvin typed them into the computer and filled out a bunch of other little things before pressing "enter". The transaction had been made, and Marvin's job was done.

  
"Thank you, sir. Your call will be redirected now," droned the stressed worker, clicking a button on his work phone and hanging up. That was uneventful, as usual. Usually, that was how every call went, so Marvin couldn't have particularly been surprised. Back to his scheduled boredom, right? Not quite.

  
Within perhaps another hour, the man got another call. "Thirteen..." Marvin drawled, counting off the call as he began readying his computer. He picked up the phone and raised it to his ear, saying the usual, "Hello, you've reached the Triple-X Sex hotline. For five minutes of call time, your balance will be twenty dollars. For ten minutes, your balance will be thirty-five. Any additional minute will be an extra two dollars."

  
"Hello," the voice spoke over the line. It sounded rather friendly, but... familiar. Marvin shook it off as a coincidence, and the man on the other end spoke again. "Five minutes. That's all, although I wouldn't particularly mind it being with you."

  
Marvin blinked. He was a taken man, and would certainly not slip up just for some random guy over the phone. "Nice try. Please read out your credit car—"

  
"I could just get off to your voice right _now_ ," the other voice cut in, and a soft grunt was heard on their line. Marvin groaned; was this actually happening?

  
"Sir, I'm going to have to hang up if you don't comply," the worker sighed, still not over how familiar the caller sounded. Curiosity washed over him, and he couldn't help but ask, "What is your name? For security purposes, of course."

  
The caller didn't speak for a while, seemingly somewhere else. When Marvin cleared his throat expectantly, the man on the other line spoke again. "Whizzer Brown."

  
Marvin almost choked, slowly bringing a hand over his mouth. The caller sensed Marvin's silence and let out a chuckle of disbelief and amusement. "Wait, _Marvin_? Is that—"

  
The worker immediately hung up the phone, his light blue-gray eyes overtaken with both horror and confusion. Whizzer, of all people, had called the line. Whizzer fucking Brown, his own lover, whom he had _left_ his _wife_ for. Truthfully, Marvin wished he was as surprised as he seemingly appeared to be; his lover was never particularly monogamous. But damned be Marvin, who would certainly face scrutiny the moment he'd arrive home.

  
The end of the worker's shift meant immediate dread as he drove back home, contemplating how he may evade Whizzer's presence. Perhaps he was asleep; that would mean that Marvin could avoid getting yelled at for the night, which would be a huge relief. Much to his dismay, however, he parked in the driveway and noticed that the lights were turned on inside. _Fuck_.

  
With a dreary sigh, Marvin exited his vehicle and walked to the front door; since the lights were on, he figured that the door would already be unlocked. Correct in his assumptions, he turned the handle and entered the spacious house.

  
Whizzer awaited him in the living room, sitting on the couch with a coquettish, brazen grin. "Hello, Marvin."

  
The overworked man brought a hand up, rubbing his own face with a muffled, "Oh, my _God_."

  
Behind Whizzer was Jason, who had been staying with the two men as Trina and Mendel settled and unpacked into their own home. Jason looked at his biological father with a feigned lighthearted, naïve expression; Whizzer had obviously notified Jason of Marvin's late-night shenanigans. Jason seemed amused.

  
"Hi, dad," Jason piped up in his prepubescent voice, smiling widely. Whizzer drawled out a long, genuine laugh.

  
"Pleasure to see you, Marvin," the taller man said mirthfully, his eyes creasing with humor. Marvin wasn't in the mood to deal with this at all.

  
"Whizzer, Jason," Marvin addressed the two, brushing past them to get to the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He first pulled off his tie, feeling as if it constricted his throat more than usual.

  
Whizzer ushered Jason to bed before slinking into the bedroom, where Marvin was now lying in bed, sulking. The sight was laughable, but Whizzer didn't laugh just yet. He silently crept to Marvin's side, tapping his arm softly.  
"What?" Marvin groaned, not bothering to look at his lover. Whizzer grinned at this, finding Marvin's demeanor entertaining.

  
"Jason was laughing at you earlier. He says he's never bringing you to Career Day at school," Whizzer said, clearly satisfied. Despite his blatant mockery, the moment was quite paternal; the taller man spoke as if Jason was his son, too. Marvin found a bit of sentiment in that. It was almost like they were a complete family.

  
Snapping back to the reality of the situation, Marvin mumbled an exhausted, "Yeah, whatever. You're both grounded."  
Whizzer let out a hefty laugh and smiled.

"Sure." He then undressed and rested beside Marvin, whereupon the shorter man moved away to the opposite side of the bed. Salt ran coarsely in his veins, but he'd cheer up in the morning.

  
What followed was merely a life of constant torment from Whizzer's end. Marvin became accustomed to it, yet the moment it finally became bearable, his lover had passed.


End file.
